Black Ant

A black ant is trying to swim

in the toilet.

It’s on its side, pedaling.

I’m standing, looking down,

wondering how long it’s been at it.

Here, I say, and dip

a balled-up tissue near its feet.

It stands.

It must think I’m a god.

I help it to the floor.

Probably it just wanted a drink.

This is the way it goes,

always more than you bargained for.

Then just about the time

your legs are giving out,

a soggy raft appears

from God knows where.